


re-union.

by howlhowl



Category: The Libertines
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlhowl/pseuds/howlhowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things get heated at the re-union gig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	re-union.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a very long time ago (like 2003, 2004)  
> here are my notes from back then:
> 
>  
> 
> my apologies to bilo and biggles first hand. sorry.  
> excuse my filthy mind. please. i could change names now, but i cant be bothered.  
> yeah, this didn't happen. i wouldn't know. (though i actually was there...... oh well)

all the excitement. stage swamped in by fresh faced boys and teenage girls, him singing 'she loves you yeah yeah yeah' dedicated to sister amy jo; and i just feel marvellously happy to have him 'here instead of all the unknown places in the whole world, or worse, behind bars in Her Majesty's Pleasure. oh that had been horrid, being apart from him. first few months hadn't been so bad, i was too busy wallowing in the bittersweet bubble bath of anger and mistrust. that bastard. i mean that in the most affectionate way imaginable.

i'm still pissed out of my head from drinkies before, and i'm drinking some more to keep myself standing. random girls bother with their sexual innuendos, the usual 'he's a rock star i must talk to him' crap and autographs. i ditch them, i couldn't care less about pretty, eager and willing birds when i have my mind set on my best friend. i must find peter. the alcohol rushing through my veins, thinking it's time for a full reconciliation. i rush rudely through the swirming sea of youngsters dancing to animal nitrate and find him pretty much where i left him, in the red glow of the backroom talking to his mate dean.

i slyly wrap my arm around bilo's shoulder and plant a kiss on his forehead. i have drink in that hand, dangling on his chest and i raise it to give him a sip mid-sentence. he chugs half the whole bloody thing and wipes the spills off the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

'will you excuse us for a bit?' i say to dean and lead pete off to a quieter corner of the haze a bit more away from prying eyes, holding his fingers in my hand. i put my drink on the floor, safe in the corner, and set myself between him and the cheap cardboardy wall. without a word i grab him by his chest and eat him up. all the words rambled in an earlier drunken haze to the bloke from the NME resurface and i can feel my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands through his royal red fred perry shirt. i cant believe he's paralyzed by surprise for the first five seconds, you'd think he would've known what i was going for. but after the initial 'what the fuck?' he joins in.

he bites my lip and gasps for air, almost falling down as i pull him, slipping on the wet floor. someone must have spilled their drinkies there. i let him go for a second to let him stand up. he straightens himself up a bit and looks at me. i stare back. he grabs my white vest and does what i just did to him, imitates almost every move. it's uncanny. i can feel the tip of his tongue licking my palate, and around the insides of my cheeks. i bite it and he bites my lip again. his hands are wandering and i feel his fingertips push into my arse through the pockets of my ripped jeans where he has just slipped them. i pull away for a bit still without letting his lips part from mine so i can slip my right hand up his shirt, feeling his oi! soft boi chest and stomach. we stumble for a bit and i can hear his shoe hit against the glass i left in the very corner. i pull away a bit more and say 'mind the drink, will you?' he looks a bit baffled and mumbles a 'yes, sir' as he attacks my mouth again his hands climbing up my back under my vest.

i slip my hand down his trousers, slowly, playing with his pubic hair, getting it tangled around my index finger. he's ticklish; i can hear a tiny giggle as he pulls out to inhale something besides my drunken breath. he smiles faintly as i slip my hand further down to find an ever-growing hard-on. i stroke it for a bit, then grab gently from the base of it and start wanking him off as our mouths violently devour each other to the rhythm of the movement of my hand. his breathing is getting heavier by every single stroke and i think i'm not too far from coming myself either. our mouths part and he's all silent, short moans, like a drowning child gasping for air. they turn deeper and deeper until there's one long one that seems to come straight from the core of his being and i can feel him all over my hand. he looks at me with those eyes of his that make the girls and boys want to mother him, go 'come here, little boy. i'll take care of you.'

he smiles faintly until he notices i'm still hard. he offers to take care of me, grabs me by my open belt, undoing the button of my jeans. i shrug my head. 'no, it was my treat.' but he insists and slides his hand down. i shiver at his touch and like a child lost in the dark reach out for his lips with mine. he's a tease and pulls back, just enough for me to not quite reach him but still feel his breath on my lips. he pulls me closer again and slides further down as he attacks on the upper front also. my teeth tug at his lip as he starts moving his hand, up and down, and i can barely breathe from the excitement. i pull my head back a bit to catch a bit of air and pump it against the wall. he slows down, whispers in my ear 'you okay?' and plants a row of wet kisses on my neck. i mumble a yes and breathe heavily in moans as he continues his strokes more firmly, determined to return the favour. building up the tension. finally the warm wave of pleasure comes over me, leaving its mark on the external world by a silent deep moan i let out and a salty splatter of cum all over his hand.

he pulls out his hand from my jeans and stares at it fascinated for a while there leaning on his other hand against the wall. he wipes the splattered hand on his leg and leans in for a kiss. just a little one, a taster. i grab him for another round and he almost falls all over me and the floor as he looses the balance provided by his other hand. he trembles against me, against the wall. 'i think they're starting to miss us', he says as we part. i curse the rest of the world silently it my head. twats. but he's right. and besides, we have all the time in the world now. i gather myself and wrap my arm casually around his shoulder. 'don't forget your drink, biggles' he reminds me.

as we emerge from our corner, my drink casually in my hand brushing against pete's chest, we bump into the ugly old bloke who gets paid for photographing us and everyone else for the NME. he asks if he can take a picture of us, looking all re-united. we look at each other thinking 'if he only knew' and say sure. pete's smelling my eye with his eyes closed, ready for a kiss on my cheek & his hand on my neck. i'm smiling drunkenly, as happy as i think i could ever be. i think this is the moment when i could pass out.


End file.
